Bold and Blue
by Masako Moonshade
Summary: A collection of one-shots dedicated to our favorite supervillain-turned-hero.
1. ICU

AN: This was inspired by the No You Can't forum's suggestion of looking into Megamind's stay in a hospital- during the fight with Tighten, he was unable to get up and had to drag himself across the ground to get to where he needed to go. That indicates that he got hurt pretty bad, to which this is my response.

And to clear up confusion, the title comes from the slang for the Intensive Care Unit in a hospital.

* * *

ICU

* * *

It looked like a prison, if prisons were decorated by Martha Stewart. Harsh angles, sterile white walls, with the occasional 'homey' touches here and there to keep the inmates from going entirely mad and starting a riot.

Though here the word for 'inmates' was 'patients'.

This sort of task was typically taken care of by Minion, but as his suit was in a regrettable state of repair and the spare was still malfunctioning, it became necessary to find other sources of assistance. Not that he needed it.

In fact, if he'd been able to stand up straight after the adrenaline wore off, he would have insisted that there was absolutely no need for the ambulance that came to pick him up. If he'd had the strength left in him he would have resisted vehemently against the prospect of being strapped to a gurney, and the undignified of being carried around like an invalid.

Hell, if he hadn't lost consciousness within minutes of entering the ambulance, he would at least have offered some witty one-liners for their trouble.

He came to now and again, to see doctors hovering over him and muttering things about hairline fractures in the cranium and twisted ankles and internal bleeding. At least they thought it was internal bleeding. More than once he half-felt the prick of a syringe as blood was drawn for more extensive testing—to see if he could accept donated blood, to see if it would react with antibiotics and painkillers, to see if there was anything dangerous or toxic within the blood itself that the doctors had to be aware of.

These were terms of science. More biological than mechanical, as was his expertise, but the logic and familiarity of it was oddly soothing to Megamind as he drifted in and out of consciousness. It was definitely better than that heart monitor that they'd strapped him to, or the gaggle of panicking nurses that preceded the discovery that such a quick pulse was perfectly normal for his species, thank you very much.

All in all, it took about twelve hours for him to feel rested enough to open his eyes.

"Megamind?" was the first thing he heard, though it didn't take him any time to recognize the voice. "Minion, he's awake!"

"Sir!" came the second voice, accompanied by a splash. And now the patient in question was wet. Lovely. "How are you feeling sir? Is your bed comfortable enough? Is there anything I can do?"

Megamind had neither the heart nor the stamina to point out that there wasn't much Minion really could do from a little glass fishbowl beside his bed. Roxanne was close by, leaning on the cot with both hands to get a closer look at him.

Wow, she was pretty. For some reason that thought made him giggle a little bit, but the sudden pain in his chest made that stop pretty quick. The subsequent coughing fit really didn't detract from the discomfort, but he didn't get nearly as much of a choice in that matter.

"Ow," he managed to say when the hacking coughs finally subsided. His voice sounded hoarse and thin.

"I guess that answers your question, Minion," Roxanne said gently. The fish wiggled uneasily in his little bowl.

"I really…" Megamind tried to clear his throat, narrowly avoiding a second coughing fit as he did. "I really got my butt kicked, huh?"

"A little," Roxanne conceded. She reached out and lay her hand on an unbruised portion of his head. His eyes drifted shut, appreciating the feel of her skin on his. "You did a pretty good share of kicking yourself, you know."

"Naturally," he said, though the declaration was a sad shadow of his usual bravado. She leaned in further and placed a kiss against his lips—expertly avoiding the tender spot where his lower lip had been split. Every inch of him seemed to relax under the pressure of her lips, and a contented little smile was perched on his face when she withdrew.

"You rest up, okay?" she murmured. "Focus on getting better."

He gave the faintest sliver of a nod before he began to drift off again.

Maybe—just maybe—the hospital wasn't all _that_ bad, he decided as he left the realm of consciousness. At least they had decent visiting hours.


	2. Prisoner

AN: A quick hundred-word drabble, just a soft, fluffy something that came into my head.

* * *

"Why do you do that?" she asks as he wraps his leg around her waist— a habit slowly born as he grows accustomed to sharing his bed with her.

"Because I've taken you hostage, and I'm never letting you go," he purrs into her ear, and she chuckles. There is no diamond, no art, no secret as precious as the sound of her laughter; he is addicted to the sound.

"You're my prisoner, and as long as I've got you, nothing in the world will ever hurt you."

There's a smile on her face as he kisses her to sleep.


	3. Currency

Author's Note: This takes place while Roxanne is strapped to the top of Metro Tower. It's a rather crappy monologue, but it popped into my head and I'd rather write it in the form of internal monologue than essay. It's a reflection of Roxie's unwitting superpower in the midst of all this. This is sort of a break from teaching, college, and my seven or eight projects that I'm hoping to be published professionally, so I don't expect to dedicate quite the level of dedication I used to give to my fanfics to this cluster.

* * *

**Currency**

* * *

Why does this keep happening to me?

I'm not asking why this happens in general—no, that comes with the territory of living around here. You can't buy a house or lease an apartment in this city without having to sign a waiver recommending that you buy 'Showdown Insurance', but I'm not talking about that.

I'm talking about me, specifically.

Why does this keep happening to _me_?

When people thought I was dating Metro Man, sure, I got that. And Megamind wasn't exactly the roughest of kidnappers. In fact, compared to some of the normal, human variety of scumbag, he was downright gentle. And sweet. And polite, in his own hyperdramatic way. But Hal— or Titan, or Tighten, or however the hell you're supposed to say it? And then Megamind too?

Do all superpowered freaks have a thing for me, or is it just the perfume I'm wearing? Because I'd love to trade. I'd _love_ to quit being yanked around, strapped in uncomfortable places, and frozen half to death on top of the tallest spire in the city. That would be fantastic right about now.

But that's really not the only thing bothering me at this moment. It's kind of a bad time, I know—about to die, about to drag my almost-ex-boyfriend along for the ride, and this is what I'm wasting my last moments thinking about?

But it bothers me.

Because thrice now, the whole of truth, justice, and the Metro City way failed us. And twice now it looked an awful lot like it failed because of me. Which is ridiculous. First off, I'm not that pretty, and I'm not vain enough to think that I'm somehow the face that launched a thousand super heroes. But at least twice now—maybe two and a half, since I didn't really get Metro Man's input—the people who could have saved us turned to evil and apathy because I turned them down for a date. The only thing motivating them to even try was this fantasy that the hero gets the girl.

But that's not how it's supposed to work. You're supposed to save the day because it's the right thing to do, not because you might get a kiss out of it. That's—that's shallow and stupid and—

And what got in the water to make every super-powered guy in the tri-county area suddenly decide that it's _my_ job to do the kissing? Don't I get a say in this? Didn't anybody think to ask me how I feel about all this?

Don't I get a choice?

Titan—Tighten—whatever—he's finally got the camera working. Meaning it's just about show time. Which leaves me with the first choice I've had since this started.

I can try to convince Metro Man to come back one more time. I can beg Megamind to reconsider. Or I can say nothing. I can maintain that I'm not some prostitute, I'm not a reward system, I'm not a currency to be used to pay off super heroes for saving our city.

So if not me, then who? If they're not going to do it for truth and justice and all that intangible stuff, what's going to make them risk their necks to save the day?

Metro Man made his choice—he got his freedom, and we were damned for it. And now I have a choice.

Stand by and let Tighten destroy the city, or step up and be the currency that holds it together.

The speech has been made, and the camera turns to me.

I look into the lens.

Time to pay my dues.

* * *

AN: Yes, two of the three superheroes in the story declared that their decision to save the day hinged entirely on Roxie dating them, and it may have factored into the decision of the third to quit his gig for one that had better groupies. Is it fair? No. Is it anti-feminist? ... no. She, with the use of beauty, charm, and personality, has become the single most powerful human being in Metro City, let alone the world. It worked for Madame du Pompadore, it worked for Empress Wu Zetian, it worked for Olympias of ancient Greece. I'm not about to knock it. The problem is that, once she knows she has this inexplicable power over the superpowered men in the region, she has an obligation to fulfill. Did she continue to see Megamind out of that obligation to her home, then, or out of genuine love?

Being a hopeless romantic, I maintain the latter. But I give you the cookie to chew on for yourself.


	4. A Woman of Class

Author's Note: This was written for the flashfic game in the Megamind_movie community on Livejournal. Black_Panda_Ops presented the following challenge: _Megamind is supposed to feed Roxanne's goldfish (oh noes, original goldfish character) and sends Minion to do it._

My response was the following.

* * *

She was beautiful.

Not just flashy, no- though the shine in her scales completely redefined the term 'goldfish'- no, there was a charismatic intelligence in her eyes, a come-hither-itude in the flap of her gills, and an alluring grace in the way she circled the bowl.

Minion approached with caution and humility. After all, this was clearly a woman of class.

"Well... hello there," he said, trying his hardest to sound smooth and suave. "Come here often?"

Her unblinking gaze was unimpressed. He swallowed.

"Right. You live here. Sorry. So... um..." Okay, he was floundering now. That was a bad idea- you NEVER flounder with a goldfish. "Are you hungry? Because, you know, I happen to know this great brand of flakes, and they're just to die for, and..."

She stared at him patiently.

Right.

"Um... well, Miss Ritchie wanted you to know that she'll be home in about a week, and everything's okay, and I'll be taking care of you... unless... you'd rather have Megamind do it. I mean, if you want-"

And that was the point at which she gave up:

"Just shut up and kiss me."


	5. Safe Place

AN: When I should be in bed I write fanfic instead, alas. This takes place immediately after the movie, with the natural consequences of what Roxanne's been through.

* * *

Safe Place

* * *

Oddly enough, they didn't happen right away. Her sleep after first being hurled around the city like a ragdoll had been fitful, but she'd consumed enough alcohol by the night's end to garble her dreams into nothingness. The next day, once the adrenaline of nearly dying a good dozen times or so wore off, she collapsed in exhaustion and didn't regain consciousness until morning.

And then they began.

First, falling. Not just falling through the air, but being tossed and juggled, whipped into traffic and yanked back out again while the wind clawed at her skin and her screams filled the air. There was no lucidity in it, just panic, blood-curdling, mind-numbing panic, as she was plunged through the air over and over and over—

Then the running. She ran as fast and as hard as she could while the city shattered around her, jagged shards digging into her bare feet, the tower pursuing her like a titan's spear and crushing everything in its path. Sometimes people tried to help her—her mother and Carlos and Metro Man and Susan and Minion and Megamind and Bernard and even Hal—but as soon as she reached out to them they turned into somebody else.

Her therapist (God, it had been years since she'd actually spoken to him) told her to take the week off. She'd been through enough traumatic experiences; the nightmares were natural. But then the week ended and the nightmares didn't.

She went to work—meaning that she showed up—but that was starting to mean less and less. More than a week of nearly no sleep had left her shambling through the office like the living dead (and after dying every night in her dreams, she certainly felt the part). Another week passed.

No change.

She huddled under a blanket at night, on her bed, her couch, under the television (and never ever on the balcony), wishing sleep would come but terrified of what would happen when it did.

It was in this state, addled and insane from eighteen days with twelve hours of sleep between them, that she marched out of her apartment in the middle of the night and started walking.

She was in her pajamas and a pair of flip-flops, an old quilt tossed over her shoulder. She didn't care.

Her hair was a mess, her breath smelled, and the rings under her eyes were so dark they looked like they'd been smeared with eyeliner. Screw it.

It was a three mile hike. She needed the exercise.

It was in that state that she marched through the holographic secret entrance of Megamind's lair.

As she approached the brain bots swarmed around her benignly, confused at her presence. It was four in the morning. What was a two-legged person doing up at four in the morning?

Roxanne kept walking, all but ignoring their robotic barking. It was bound to wake somebody up.

Heavy footfalls told her that Minion was the first one awake, and she whirled to face him.

"Miss Ritchi?" he asked, still yawning a little bit. His suit's hands dangled limply at his sides; apparently they hadn't warmed up quite yet. "What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes." There wasn't any life left in her to come up with snappy comebacks and one-liners. She was tired, dammit. Jut cut to the chase. "I need that—that spray stuff." Her mind wasn't even working well enough to come up with its proper name. "The knock-out stuff. In a can. I need it."

"Is… everything all right?" Minion asked carefully. His fingers were starting to twitch to life. It took her until this moment to realize that it was one of his older suits.

"Yes. Peachy. Fine." There wasn't some other superpowered psycho out to get her, no, just the one who'd kidnapped and repeatedly tried to kill her, still at it long after he'd been put away. Which Minion had helped save her from. Meaning he didn't need this right now. She tried to reign it in. "Listen—I need sleep. These nightmares—I can't—I haven't slept in weeks, and I need it. I can't work, I can't—I can't do anything—"

Dammit she was on the verge of tears. In fact, she might have started crying already; her face was still too numb from the trek for her to feel anything. More footsteps, followed by a slight raise in the volume of the metallic barking.

"Minion, what's going—" A gasp. "Roxanne?" She turned around to see him floundering, trying at once to cover his pajamas (what, did he not notice the glorious ensemble she was wearing?) and say something and flip to the setting on his watch that actually told the time. Unfortunately, that first required that he cycle through the other settings on the damned thing.

Some old guy in a sparkly jumpsuit. Metro Man. The warden. Bernard.

It was like her nightmares all over again.

In some distant part of her brain she knew what was going on and why, and she knew she wasn't being rational for lack of sleep. She couldn't help it. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears and wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to steady her breathing and only succeeding to choke on sobs. She wasn't even aware of the point where she sank to the floor. Megamind and Minion might have bumbled together in a spectacular feat of panic and confusion, but she wasn't aware of it.

She was only aware of a tentative hand touching her shoulder, and faint metallic squeaking as the quilt was pulled away, billowed open and wrapped around her. Megamind pulled her just a little bit closer, and then a little bit closer, and then a little bit closer still so that she was leaning almost entirely against his chest. Frantic, she buried her face in his bony shoulder, not even noticing when he went rigid for a moment of shock. His arms around her tightened some more, and she could feel the added weight of a second blanket being laid across her back.

"Now, I don't know much about these… nightmares," Megamind said after a long while, quite likely with Minion's prompting. "But Roxanne—" Stop. Wait. Decided against it. "I want you to know that you are… safe here."

A part of her wanted to giggle at the irony, if she hadn't been so busy soaking his high-collared pajamas. He was right, after all. He'd been kidnapping her here for years, and for all the threats and all the dangerous stuff lying around, he had never once let anything happen to her here. Hell, it was safer than her own apartment. Hal had never dragged her away from here. Hal probably hadn't even known where this place was.

"So… um… you don't need to worry… or be… er… scared or anything here."

If Minion hadn't put another blanket on her just then, she would have sworn the fish was writing him cue cards. She half-thought she saw him doing so, but that was impossible. Her eyes were still shut. Maybe she was hallucinating. Or maybe she was just dreaming.

"So just… yeah."

The sobs subsided altogether as Roxanne fell definitively asleep. Still attached quite ambitiously to Megamind's chest. He looked at her for a long while, and then up at Minion.

"Code: what do I do now?" he whispered.

"Code: I can get her off if you want," Minion said, reaching down to try and lift her off his boss, but Megamind shook his head.

"Code: just bring some… pillows or something," he said. "I'll stay here tonight."

The pillows were remarkably helpful. Roxanne Ritchi didn't wake until well into the afternoon, well rested and still wrapped tightly around Megamind. She was a little confused, and more than a little embarrassed, but even more grateful.

Because this time, there were no nightmares.


End file.
